Domestic Disturbance
by SugarSnaps037
Summary: Wallander is summoned to a case out of town with Magnus as his reluctant partner.In a world of political prestige and reclusiveness not all is as it seems as they investigate the murder of a politicians young daughter.Rated T for some graphic material.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everybody. So I recently got into watching BBC's Wallander and I became hooked on it. I also wanted to try out a murder/mystery story since I haven't written something like that before. I hope I did okay. Please review. Oh and a thanks to my Beta Zorpox08 (my sister). Much love. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Wallander or the awesomeness that is Kenneth Branagh and Tom Hiddleston.**

**P.S. to those of you waiting on the rest of my Sherlock Holmes fic, I do intend to finish it but I hit a small writer's block snag and this tickled my fancy for the time being.**

"There's been a murder in a town near Ed forest in Varmland." Anne announced as she entered the detective's office in her precinct. "A woman was bound and stabbed near her home."

Kurt Wallander looked up from the stack of paperwork he had been glaring at. "Varmland? That's not our jurisdiction," he replied.

"Yeah I know," she answered, "but their so called police force doesn't really see this kind of thing. The girl is the daughter of some big time politician. I think this is a gambit for some political support for our division if you know what I mean."

"And money does make the world go 'round," Wallander scrubbed his face with his hands and let out an audible groan. "So it's a field trip then," he said with anything but enthusiasm. "Who gets to be my lackey?"

At that precise moment Cali Svedberg stepped into the room and made his way over to Wallander. "Why don't you take Martinsson," he suggested. "He's been here all night fiddling with the computer system. I think he needs a break."

Wallander looked to his left where Cali was pointing only to spot one Magnus Martinsson sitting at a desk pecking at a keyboard. His owlish eyes were fixated on the computer screen as if they had been glued there. "All night?" Wallander mouthed the words, too surprised to actually make sound. Decision made, he moved over to Magnus and lightly pushed at his shoulder. "Come on," he said.

Magnus looked up at Wallander and blinked a couple of times. He looked as if he had only just realized that there were other people in the room and chances are that was pretty much the truth. "What?" he breathed barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Come on," Kurt repeated and then proceeded to walk out the door. Still blinking his bleary blue eyes Magnus just stared after the detective for a moment. "Okay," he finally managed before he stood up and made to follow the other man. To anyone watching it would have looked like a robot responding to a command rather than any type of conscious decision. It wasn't until they reached the parking garage that Magnus thought to ask where exactly it was they were going.

"First we are going to my home to pick up a few things," Kurt said by way of response, "then we are going to your place, and from there we are going on a bit of a trip.

In an instant Magnus's steps halted and he glared daggers at the back of Wallander's head. "Wait," he said, "we're not taking that murder case out in the country are we?"

Kurt turned his attention back toward his young co-worker. "How the bloody hell did you know about that," he asked. He was certain Magnus hadn't heard a word that was exchanged in the office earlier.

"It came across on the computers this morning."

"Case files are password protected so that only those assigned to them have access."

Magnus shrugged. "Well it's not very good protection," he said.

Wallander's eyes were full of incredulity. "Get in the car," he said as he opened the passenger side of the blue BMW.

"Fine," huffed a despondent Magnus.

Later that morning, after stuffing their overnight bags Wallander and Magnus were headed out of Ystad. They weren't ten minutes into the trip when Kurt glanced over only to see Magnus sound asleep in the passenger's seat. Well so much for sharing driving responsibilities. The boy truly must have been awake the whole night. Kurt couldn't help the tinge of worry that accompanied that thought. There were only two main reasons someone would stay at work through the night, particularly when they didn't have to. The first was that someone was causing trouble at home, but as far as Wallander knew Magnus lived alone and there he could see no evidence of anyone rooming with him while they were at his flat. That leaves the second and more troubling option; he doesn't want to sleep. His mind is too preoccupied, most likely he is afraid of something.

It bothered Wallander but there wasn't much he could do about it. Magnus was young and the youth tried to take on the world by themselves (not that the old have learned their lesson much). Turning his attention back to the road Wallander occupied himself with watching the landscape change. What began as the brick and concrete of the coastal city of Ystad soon became the flat grasslands of the outer plains. Eventually even the plains gave way to a more wooded area. The forest had quickly become so dense that you could hide an entire army of tanks and no one would notice. That made Kurt wonder. The murder they were going to investigate was of a woman found dead in her home. If the murderer wanted the smallest chance of being caught he should have killed her in the woods. By the time she was found most if not all of the evidence would have been lost. Well there was no use worrying about it until he actually saw the crime scene.

It had been five hours since they started this trip and Wallander felt as though his foot had gone numb. He pulled into what was probably the last gas station he would see for miles and parked in front of the little mom and pop shop that accompanied it. He turned off the engine and sat back for a moment. Letting out a weary sigh he was in the process of massaging his legs when he heard soft mumbling coming from his right. He looked over to see his companion twitching in his sleep. His feet were trying to move as if he were running from something.

"Magnus," said Kurt. Magnus's head jerked towards Wallander but his eyes remained closed.

"Magnus," he tried again, louder this time. Still no good. Now the boy was moving more violently and it seemed as though he was going to start kicking and screaming at any moment.

"Martinsson!' Kurt yelled and finally Magnus's head shot up.

"What?" Was the first thing he said. His eyes moved around and the terror that they had held when he awoke quickly turned to confusion. "Where are we?" He asked.

"About two hours from where we are going," Kurt answered. "You've been asleep the whole ride."

Kurt wondered if it was possible for a face to show any more confusion then Magnus's held at the current moment. "I did?" he said and the look he gave made the idea seem like the strangest in the world.

"Yeah," the surly detective replied. After a moment he added, "Are you okay?"

Magnus looked down at the glove compartment, or the floor, really anywhere but Wallander. "I'm fine," he said. "Just a silly nightmare is all."

Wallander eyed him with an analytical gaze. The man he saw had just had five hours sleep yet he looked like he hadn't had any. His shoulders sagged as he rubbed the stiffness from his neck and though he tried to keep them open his eyes squinted a bit as he looked out at the unfamiliar surroundings. "How's your mum?" The question was seemingly out of the blue and the tone of voice suggested that it was just for casual conversation.

Magnus, however, squirmed under Wallander's gaze as he waited for the answer. "She's doing okay," he said but his eyes never met Kurt's and his voice was soft, almost childlike.

"Right," murmured Kurt and then he opened his car door and stepped out. "Are you hungry?"

Magnus looked up at that, "Yeah, a bit."

"Well come on then." Kurt said as he waved his arm toward the store. "You're driving when we come back out."

The elder detective made his way into the store leaving the younger of the two to gaze out of the windshield. "That's just great." Sarcasm seemed to theme of the day today.

**Woohoo! First chapter out.**

**Thanks for reading and please review. It is much much much appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we go. Chapter 2**

It was just past five when they finally arrived. Instead of heading to the inn they would be staying at, they headed straight to the crime scene not wanting the poor girl to lie there any longer. It was decided that the room where she was found would remain primarily undisturbed until they got there. "What was the girl's name?" Wallander asked as he examined the area around the body.

"Linda Bromstad," answered Magnus. He was trying to take photos so that they could use them as reference for later but couldn't help but throw an uneasy glance back at the two policemen that kept them company. The pair of them eyed the proceedings with an eager enthusiasm that bordered on creepy and for some reason Magnus couldn't help but wonder what a fish felt like when it was stared at through a tank. His attention was drawn back to Kurt as the senior detective pointed to something on the rug.

"The blood marks on the carpet look as though she had been dragged," he said. "See if you can find out where she was dragged from. Magnus took off toward the back of the house examining the floor as he went.

Wallander continued looking over the girl, noting every detail that may be of importance. She was a young girl. Twenty-two in age, with auburn hair that went down past her shoulders. She was lying on her back and her hands were bound in front of her so that they sat on her lap. Her blue-green eyes were open wide, her death having definitely been a surprise. She was situated on a rug in the middle of the room as if she were a pristine centerpiece left out for display. Pristine save for the stab wound in her chest.

"She's sort of pretty, isn't she?"

Kurt jolted a bit at the sound of Magnus's voice. He had been so fixated by the way in which she had been placed that he hadn't noticed the kid's return. "Pretty," he scoffed trying to cover up his surprise. "What, are you considering dating her or something?" Magnus suddenly looked flustered, much to Wallander's amusement.

"No!" He protested. "I just… Look, I figured out where the trail came from."

"And?"

"It leads back to a stream in the woods behind the back yard."

Kurt thought about that for a moment. "Why wouldn't the killer just leave her there?" At Magnus's shrug Kurt looked back at the girl, "Well there's not much else we can do here. Where did you say the parents were staying?"

The taller of the two officers spoke up first, "They're at a guest house of Mr. Tramwire's"

"He, uh, he owns a major lumber company, if that helps," said the other.

"Yeah, okay," Wallander said as he stood and took a few steps away from the scene. "You should have a coroner come out and get a team to come clean up."

"Oh, um, yes of course," the tall officer stuttered out. "I'll get on that straight away." True to his word the young man pulled his phone out and headed to another room for better reception.

Later that evening the two detectives were busy situating themselves in their room. The Inn of the Golden Swan was the name of the place. It was an old Victorian style mansion that had been refurbished into a hotel of sorts. The room they were given had hardwood paneled walls, two beds with light blue linens, its own shower room, and an antique style writing desk and chair. A chair where Kurt was currently sitting. Magnus on the other hand, sat indian style on the bed he picked, his laptop balanced on his knees. He was currently downloading the information on Linda and her immediate family.

"So the dead girl is a recent college grad" he said. "She was an art student at the University of Gothenburg. Looks like mommy and daddy footed the bill." A hint of disgust colored his voice with that statement. Magnus was the type who had to make his own way in life and was quite proud of what he had achieved. He barely had any time for snotty rich kids and their ever so accommodating parents. "As a matter of fact it looks like she didn't directly manage any of her money on her own. Every account she has is jointed with her father. He has direct access to everything."

"So the chances that this is about money are getting smaller," said Kurt as he gazed out the window. "What about the parents?"

"Sure, um…hang on a second." Magnus tapped at a few keys. "Here we go. Ronald and Margaret Bromstad; Margret is basically unemployed but she is the unofficial chairperson of the activities committee for the community. Ronald Bromstad is well known, if you keep up with current affairs that is. He has held a seat in the Riksdag as part of the social democrat party for the past three years. "

"So this could be a political statement," interjected Kurt.

The young detective squinted his eyes at the screen considering the idea but ultimately seeming doubtful. "It's a possibility but from what I can tell the only thing Bromstad has been lobbying for recently has been about opening up global trade. Really, they are no closer to that than they were three years ago. If they are trying to send a message, why now?"

Kurt sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He stretched his arms and legs out so that he was nearly lying flat over the chair and then turned his attention back to Magnus. "If there's one thing I've learned about the political world, you have to do a lot of digging before you get even a hint of the truth." With that he stood and headed towards the bathroom, "I'm gonna turn in for the night. You should do the same."

"Uh, actually I was going to hunt around the computer files for a bit, you know, dig deeper," he answered. He was going for ease but to Kurt's ears the kid sounded a little too pleasant. A bit fake, actually. "My typing won't bother you will it?" he asked after Kurt stared at him for a bit too long.

Kurt quickly shook himself out of his stupor, "No, no." he said. "That'll be fine. Just make sure you get some sleep alright. I'll not look bad because you're nodding off during an interview."

"Yeah, alright," replied Magnus but something told Kurt that the warning would go unheeded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for your reviews! For those of you with a Magnus obsession I'm glad I could fill the void. Alright here you go.**

Kurt awoke to the sound of running water. It seemed that his roommate was taking a shower. Rolling over Kurt got a look at the other bed and although the blankets were a bit wrinkled, the bed itself was still made. The kid's laptop was sitting open on the desk, its glow the only real light in the room since all the curtains were closed. He must not have slept much again. This was going to have to be addressed at some point before it got both Magnus and Kurt in trouble. _What am I, a bloody babysitter?_ the detective thought dryly.

Just then a shirtless Magnus with a towel wrapped around his waist walked out of the bathroom tousling his hair with a second towel. "Good morning," he said in an all too cheery voice laced with just enough sarcasm to annoy Wallander.

"Morning," Kurt mumbled back as he struggled to get himself out of bed. Kurt Wallander did not do mornings.

"I picked up some new information," Magnus was saying as Kurt shuffled himself into the bathroom. "Turns out Linda went with a pretty sketchy crowd in high school. The police brought her home a few times for one thing or another. It was all minor stuff though; egging cars, vandalizing houses, that kind of thing." The young detective made his way over to the computer to double check his findings. "This continued until about four years ago when she was placed under house arrest for three months. Two of the guys involved were even sent to a juvenile detention center. The incident is only labeled as a domestic disturbance though. She's been clean ever since."

"So she could have fallen back into her old ways and someone didn't appreciate it," said Wallander's muffled voice from behind the bathroom door.

"It's possible," replied Magnus.

At this point a fully dressed Kurt stepped out of the bathroom, scrubbing at his face and looking altogether exasperated. "Anything is possible at this point. That's the problem." With that little gem of wisdom Magnus merely continued to tap at his keys. "I'm going for some breakfast," announced Wallander as he threw on his jacket and headed for the door. "And put a shirt on will you. That's disgusting."

Magnus, who was only clad in a pair of black work pants, chuckled a bit but didn't bother looking up. "Getting jealous in your old age?" he remarked.

Wallander sent him a glare that could've turned a man to stone. "Shirt. On. Now!" and with that he was out the door.

After breakfast it was time to get down to business. The first stop was Mr. Tramwire's house which was quite grand. The entryway was marked by two immaculate white columns at the top of which was an impressive archway. The windows were vast, buffeted by gold painted shutters. And that was just the guest house.

Inside was just as lavish. Mr. and Mrs. Bromstad were sitting on a settee in the parlor room just off the main hallway. Kurt briefly wondered just how rich you had to be to have a parlor room in your guest suite. Mr. Bromstad sat slightly hunched with one arm around his wife's shoulders. Mrs. Bromstad sat with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped in front of her face, silent tears occasionally trickling down her cheeks.

"I know this must be a difficult time for you," Kurt must have said those words a thousand times in his career yet each time they felt as completely inadequate as the last. "I'm just going to need you to answer a few questions," he continued.

"Of course," replied Mr. Bromstad, "anything you need detective." The man seemed young for a politician. He was of slender build with black hair only just beginning to grey around the edges. He spoke with confidence and not an ounce of trembling in his voice.

"When exactly did you find your daughter? It was you that found her wasn't it?" asked Wallander not wishing to beat around the bush.

"Yes, we both found her actually," said Mr. Bromstad. "We were coming home from a charity event. It was about 10 p.m." His tone was straight, business like. There was some emotion attached to the words but it seemed almost calculated.

"Right," said Wallander. "Any idea who might have done this?"

Mr. Bromstad looked to his wife who vigorously shook her head. "The only idea we can think of is some political nut trying to make a statement. As to what that statement might be though, I'm afraid I am at a loss."

"Okay," was Wallander's response. "Any friends we can talk to? Someone she might have said something to?"

"Tracy." The word was quick and quiet. Mrs. Bromstad's eyes glanced up for a moment, "Tracy Malon," she said. "She was Linda's best friend. She'll be devastated." The last part was whispered and sounded hollow as if the woman said it in a trance.

The smallness of Mrs. Bromstad struck Wallander and for a moment he was reminded of his own daughter. For the first time it occurred to him that the two girls had the same name. Shaking off the thought he cleared his throat and asked, "Any others, anyone else who might know something?"

Mr. Bromstad was quick to jump in cutting off any response Mrs. Bromstad might have made. "Linda's friends came and went, mostly. Tracy was the only one we really knew. She would know Linda's friends better than us."

Kurt gave a slight nod. "Alright, that'll be all for now." He said. "We'll contact you if we need anything else. Magnus." He tilted his head toward his companion and then toward the door, suggesting that it was time to go. Up until this point Magnus had been quietly taking notes on the conversation but at Kurt's call he flipped his notebook shut and headed outside.

It wasn't until they were in the car and driving off the Tramwire property when Magnus spoke up. "They're hiding something," he stated firmly.

Kurt looked over at his passenger and allowed the corner of his mouth to curl into a small smile. "Nice to know that your instincts work every once in a while," he jibed. "Mr. Bromstad is a politician and Mrs. Bromstad , a politician's wife. They're always hiding something."


	4. Chapter 4

**I apologize for the wait but life kinda got in the way for a while. Still, this chapter is a little longer than my previous chapters so I hope that makes the wait worth it. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews. I am overwhelmed by the response to this!**

Tracy Malon's house was a small wood cabin hidden in the thick of the forest. It was modest compared to the lavish residences that the two men had previously visited. The cabin appeared old, the wood a light gray color worn by weather and time. As Kurt approached the steps he noticed that a few planks were beginning to rot and there was an old porch swing that was missing one of the slats from its back.

The doorbell rang with a low, somber bong followed shortly by the loud creak of the front door. A girl with dark, curly, red hair that flowed freely past her shoulders greeted the detectives. She was barely over five feet in height and she couldn't have been any older than Linda had been. Probably younger.

"You're the policemen from Ystad," she stated and at the quizzical looks she was given she continued. "Marg… I mean Mrs. Bromstad rang me earlier."

"Ah," replied Kurt showing the girl an amiable smile. "Of course. May we come in?"

"Yes, right this way," said Tracy as she led them into the front hallway. "I figured you'd be coming soon anyhow. It was a terrible thing that happened." Her voice was quiet and serene. "Linda was always so kind."

She led them into the living room where Kurt noticed a woman sitting in a grey wheelchair by the corner. The woman didn't say hello or introduce herself, she merely stared at the two men. "This is my mother." Tracy announced making her way over to the woman. "I'm afraid she won't be able to answer any of your questions. She suffers from a disease called ALS*. It slowly shuts down her system. She can't speak." The words were spoken with a practiced control. Tracy even offered a comforting smile to the detectives but Kurt noticed a glimmer of the pain hidden behind the mask. Also, had Magnus not been standing directly behind him, the older detective might have missed the sharp intake of breath from the younger man.

Despite what Tracy had told them the woman attempted in vain to speak. "Unnn… Umnn," were the sounds she made as she desperately tried to communicate.

"What is it mother?" asked Tracy kneeling low so that her face was even with her mother's. Kurt and Magnus watched mesmerized by the interaction between the two women. Mrs. Malon lifted a brittle, shaking finger barely an inch off of her armrest and Tracy turned her head realizing what her mother was pointing at. A pair of teacups sat on an end table by a green couch. "Of course! How silly of me." Tracy stood and addressed the detectives, "Would either of you like some tea?"

Kurt had all intentions of declining the offer, he felt as though he didn't want to take up too much of the girl's time, but before he could say no, Magnus rushed to cut him off. "I would love some," he stated quickly and then looked pointedly at Tracy's mother with the sincerest of looks on his face. "That is very kind of you Mrs. Malon. Thank you." Tracy smiled sweetly and headed out to the kitchen. Kurt turned his head to fix Magnus with an irritated glare but otherwise said nothing.

When Tracy returned laden with her tray of tea, Kurt and Magnus were sitting on the forest green couch that adorned her living room. After setting the tray on the wooden coffee table, the young girl sat in an ancient rocking chair that groaned in response to its sudden burden. Kurt shifted a bit in his seat feeling strangely awkward to be invading the privacy of this family. Nonetheless he began his litany of standard questions. "How long had you known Linda?"

"Since she graduated high school, I think," she said. "About four years. We were sort of part of different crowds before then."

"Right," commented Wallander. "Any thoughts on who could have done this. Someone she knew or met recently perhaps."

As expected the girl shook her head. "Not really, I mean who would do that sort of thing." As she said this she began to slowly wring her hands together and her eyes glazed over a bit as though she was lost in thought.

"I know this is difficult," Kurt said bringing the girl's attention back to him. "I assure you Miss. Malon we intend to get to the bottom of this. Now I'm guessing you at least knew of her in high school." Tracy nodded. "We hear she could be a bit wild in those days."

Tracy let out a soft laugh. "Silly thing really," she said. "I remember some of the pranks they pulled on the teachers. But she wouldn't have done any of that now. Not after…"

Tracy trailed off but Kurt pressed further. "After what, Tracy?"

A look of guilt passed over the young woman's face and Kurt surmised that this must make her feel as though she were telling on her best friend. Betraying her in a way. "Well," she began hesitantly, "one night her group got a bit out of hand. I think someone might have been seriously hurt, but she wasn't the one directly responsible for it though. I know that."

Kurt pondered that for a moment, "Do you know of anyone who was involved? The person who might have been injured, perhaps?"

"Not the one who was injured, no," she responded. "But I do know that two of the boys were sent to some type of correctional facility. One of them just returned from there about a month ago, I think. He has a job at the gas station so I've talked to him a few times. John is his name. John Tourneau."

"And the other boy, did you know his name?"

"Jimmy," she replied, "but I don't know his last name. I'm sorry"

Kurt smiled. "You have been more than helpful, my dear. I think that's all we need for now. Thank you."

All three stood and Tracy walked the detectives to the front door. Once they were outside and Tracy had bid them a good day they both exhaled a pair of rough sighs. "That was…unexpected," said Magnus and Kurt found himself a little caught off guard by the strange meekness of his voice. It was a sharp contrast to the younger man's acerbic, confident tone that Kurt had grown used to over the years.

Kurt brushed off the feeling. "Yes," he finally agreed. "She composed herself very well, particularly for someone who just lost her best friend."

"She has to," stated Magnus but his voice was still small and it was beginning to unnerve his partner. "To deal with what she has to, she's gotta be strong. Otherwise she'll fall apart."

Kurt looked at Magnus with a wary eye. He had never really seen a somber Magnus and to be honest it was a bit frightening. A cranky, sardonic Magnus was easy to deal with. Just yell at him a bit and he settles down, but this. This was something the elder detective had no clue what to do with. So, in true Kurt Wallander fashion he remained silent, hoping the mood would simply pass away.

The ride to Tourneau's house was deafeningly quiet and Kurt hated it. The only time Magnus spoke was when he called the station for the address and even then the conversation was short, his tone flat and business-like. Now Magnus was gazing out of the car window with a far off look. It was weird. Actually, it was downright creepy.

Finally, they approached the house they were looking for. It was another wood cabin but this one looked almost new. Both men stepped out from the car and approached the cabin, Kurt knocking heavily on the door when they reached it. The door slid open slightly under the touch. After waiting a few minutes and receiving no response, Kurt turned to his partner. "There's a motorbike in the drive, I'll be willing to bet he's still in there," he said.

"I guess it's convenient that he left the door open then," replied Magnus, a spark of his normal self rising in the statement.

"Right, I'll go in front, you go around back." Magnus nodded as he turned to comply. Rounding the left corner, he tried to get a peak in the side window but it was obvious that a very young bachelor lived here. The glass was covered with grime both inside and out making it nearly impossible to view anything through them. Coming around to the back, Magnus spotted a bunch of crates stacked against the wall. There was no sign of anyone and the windows were too high to even attempt to look through so he didn't see the harm in taking a moment's rest. Setting his elbows on the crates, he let his face fall into his hands.

Damn, he was tired. The visit to the Malon residence had been unexpectedly draining. It felt so much like… but he couldn't think about that now. Kurt would have his head if he didn't stay focused on the job. Still, if he could close his eyes for just a moment…

Upon entering the house the first thought that crossed Wallander's mind was that a tornado had touched down here. The place was a mess. He nearly tripped over a pair of Nikes lying on the floor and a wry grin passed his face at the irony of seeing a heap of coats lying next to the coat closet. In the living room he found more of the same. Endless piles of clothes, a couch with a torn cushion, a small table propped up on one side by pizza boxes. Kurt was surprised this town even had pizza delivery. The place definitely had that "lived in" feel; still Kurt had yet to find any living person in it. He moved on to the bedroom and was about to check the closet when he heard a scampering of feet and caught a flash of black and tan pass by the doorway. He was on the kid's heels in an instant shouting "Stop! Police!" as he ran.

The boy dashed into the living room, toppling over a pile of clothes in an attempt to slow down the detective. He flung open the window in the far tight corner. Kurt had untangled his feet from a particularly stubborn sweatshirt and lunged for the boy only to be kicked back as the kid launched himself out of the window.

Magnus jolted as the thunk of a large object hitting the grass pulled him from his stupor. Had he really fallen asleep? There was no time to ponder that question as he both heard then saw an enraged Kurt Wallander shouting at him from inside a window. It was hard at first to make sense of the words, his mind still fogged with sleep, but he became suddenly alert when he heard the roar of an engine coming to life. He fumbled for his gun, nearly dropping it before raising it into position. By then it was too late, however. The bike screeched out of the driveway and was about a mile down the road by the time Magnus saw it.

Kurt slammed his hands against the windowsill. "Damn it, Magnus!" came his furious shout. Magnus looked back toward the house with profuse apologies shining in his eyes but it was to no avail. Kurt was already headed toward the front door no doubt ready to skin the younger man alive. Magnus knew he deserved every bit of it. No detective should let himself be caught off guard the way he had. Even so, he dreaded the ride back to the hotel for, he thought, it could very well be his last.

***ALS - Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis also known as Lou Gehrig's disease. **

**A coworker of mine has suffered from it for about two years. She stayed at work as long as she could and longer than that I think. She always kept smiling and was always great to be around. Sadly, she passed away while I was writing this chapter. My prayers go out to her family and all those who have been touched by this horrible disease.**


	5. Chapter 5

"What on God's green earth were you thinking!" Kurt was livid. In fact he was more than livid; he was just about ready to explode with rage. He was on the war path and Magnus was in the dead center of it. "What, did you think you were going to just take a little nap in the middle of the investigation!"

Kurt slammed the door of their little room, the sound vibrated through the whole of the inn. The drive back had been uncomfortable to say the least. After putting an APB out on the suspect, the drive mostly consisted of Magnus futilely attempting to become smaller in the passenger's seat while Kurt mumbled a wide variety of explicatives to himself. It seemed that it was just a warm-up for the chewing out Magnus was receiving now. "How many times have I told you to stay focused on the job!" continued Kurt.

"I'm sorry," was Magnus's attempt to try to get a word in but this only received a contemptuous sneer from the other man.

"Sorry?" Kurt repeated. "Sorry isn't going to cut it if the suspect has a gun in his hand! What if he did have a weapon? What if he decided to pick you off because you were such an easy target?"

There was no response to that. In fact, Magnus felt he could do nothing more than drop down on the chair and hang his head in shame. "We could have had him and you let that punk slip right through your fingers without so much as reaching for him." Magnus brought up a hand and entangled it in his curly mop, leaning his elbow heavily on the table for support. "What if he is the murderer, which since he ran is highly likely. What if he kills again? Are you ready to have that hanging on your head?" Magnus brought his other hand up. His head was feeling so tight. "Maybe you're not fit for duty! Maybe I should just take you off the case right now!"

That was the final straw. "She's in pain!" Magnus cried out, his voice cracking violently on the last word.

The declaration threw Kurt off his track completely. "What?" was all he could think to say.

"The other day, you had asked about my mother. She's in pain." The repeated words now sounded small and defeated. "It's why I haven't been sleeping, it's why I lost focus, it's why…" he trailed off, his voice hitching with the rush of words. He let out a strained sigh in an attempt to compose himself before he continued.

"Oh" was Kurt's only reply. All of the gusto had suddenly flown out of his earlier tirade. Magnus's mother had cancer; that was well known amongst the team. He had often used his sick or personal days to take care of her. Thinking back, Kurt couldn't really remember when the kid had used one of those days for himself.

Finally the young man was able to press on. "She's been suffering for a while now. The doctors keep trying different treatments but none of them are working anymore." Magnus sat back and let his arms hang in his lap. He looked up and away from Kurt but the seasoned detective only needed a glimpse to notice the tears the other man was so desperately trying to hold back. "It's just me and my mum really. My dad buggered off when I was seven. But… I haven't gone to see her lately. I know I should it's just… it's really hard. The lack of sleep I can deal with, reminds me of college, but when I saw Tracy and Mrs. Malon I couldn't… I don't know." He finished, throwing his hands up as if in surrender. He then stood up and turned to look out the window hunching over the sill as he did so.

The room descended into silence. Kurt looked the young man over with a keen eye. Despite Kurt's own nickname for him, Magnus was a fully grown adult. Still, he was far too young to lose both parents. And to have to watch someone he loved deteriorate into nothing was, well it was hell. Kurt was all too familiar with how that felt. He suddenly found himself with a strange urge to comfort his partner. That sort of thing had never come natural to him but he decided to plow through it anyway. "Look," he said, "I'm not an expert on parents. I've got a father who I'm not even sure likes me, but mothers are different, I think. I'm sure she understands."

As soon as he said the words Magnus's features clouded over with a sudden intensity that was terrifying. "She shouldn't have to!" he cried slamming his fist down on the window pane so hard Kurt was afraid he might crack it.

_Fantastic! _thought Kurt, _maybe I should just staple my mouth shut and we'd all be better off. _

But as fast as it had come the anger had passed and it appeared as though a sudden epiphany had dawned on Magnus. "You're probably right though," he said and he turned his head to look at Kurt. "She would understand," he then offered up a small wistful smile. The pain was still present in his eyes and the weariness still evident in his stance, but he seemed calmer now. More relaxed than he had been at the start of the trip.

The two men stayed in silence long enough for Kurt to begin to feel awkward. "Listen, I'm going to take a shower," he stated. "Why don't you see what you can find out about that Tourneau kid."

"Yeah alright," replied Magnus.

"And Magnus," Kurt called as he looked back at him from the bathroom door, "get some sleep will ya. You're no good to anyone if you fall over." With that Kurt closed the door and relished in his much needed alone time. He had been getting used to solitary life he had been leading since his divorce. Having a roommate again was a little more draining than he remembered. He felt for the kid, he really did. Still, even though he had been angry he had meant what he said earlier; if Magnus kept loosing focus he would be putting himself in danger. Despite the fact that Kurt often gave him a hard time, the kid really was a fine detective, and Kurt would be damned if he lost him to something as mundane a sleep deprivation. He just hoped the stubborn-headed Magnus would listen to him for once.

**Okay I was hoping to get this story finished before school started but that doesn't look like it's going to happen. I don't want to rush it though so the chapters might be coming a little less frequently than before. I am still fully committed to this story. I am very excited with how this turning out so I won't leave you guys hanging.**

**As always reviews are always welcome. I am always looking for a chance to improve my skill.**


	6. Chapter 6

The following morning Kurt was again woken by the sound of falling water, but this time it wasn't inside the room. Rain patted a steady beat against the window and Kurt could hear the distant sound of a shutter rapping gently against the side of the inn. Kurt pulled himself up and turned his head, fully expecting to see the same barely used, barren bed he had seen the previous morning. The sight that greeted him instead was quite different.

The bed next to him contained a soundly sleeping Magnus buried up to his neck in blankets to the point where there was hardly anything left of him to view. He looked like a little school boy sleeping in during winter break. In lieu of this the elder detective made no haste in getting himself ready for the day. Still by the time he had finished shaving, brushing his teeth and dressing himself, the lad hadn't even so much as twitched. Magnus needed sleep, that was for darned sure. Knowing that, Kurt decided to do a little sleuthing by himself. He usually worked better alone anyway.

With only a quick glance back, Kurt walked out of the room and latched the door as quietly as possible. His first stop was going to be the local police station. The previous night he had asked the chief of police to send someone over to the Tourneau house in case there was any evidence the kid had left behind in his rush and he wanted to see if they found anything. Besides, the city detectives had yet to visit said station since they had arrived in this isolated little town and Kurt wanted to get a glimpse of just how a small town ran things.

He pulled up to a building that was very similar to the wood cabins he had recently seen, only wider. Upon entering the station the detective wasn't really greeted by much. To his right sat an officer, filling out some paper work on a plain, almost bare desk. To the left of that, Kurt caught sight of a small office containing three occupants; an officer and two civilians by the looks of it. Kurt cleared his throat and the studious cadet looked up in surprise.

"Detective Wallander, sir!" he exclaimed. It was one of the officers from the first night. The tall one. "We weren't expecting to see you today."

"Um, no," replied Kurt. "I just wanted to ask how the house search went."

A look of confusion came over the man's face that caused the beginnings of a scowl to form across Kurt's features. "House search?" queried the officer, "Oh yes, the Tourneau residence. I'm afraid we weren't able to get over there. We had a fire last night, you see, nothing too serious, but being the size we are the policemen sometimes act as fire brigade. Awfully sorry about that…" That last part was added somewhat nervously, probably in response to the loud groan that turned into more of a growl that emanated from the gruff detective's throat.

"Well that's just wonderful." Kurt spit out the words like they had left a foul taste in his mouth. "Fine, then, I'll take care of it myself but first I'm going to check out that other kid we told you about. Jimmy…Jimmy"

"Jimmy Sorn," supplied the officer.

"Yeah, where does he live?" queried Kurt.

The cadet moved back to his desk and rifled through a few papers. "Um…306 Chartreuse road." He said. "It's a little bit past the Tourneau home." As they talked the office door opened releasing Mr. and Mrs. Bromstad as well as a large, burly man with a full beard who Kurt could only assume was the chief of police out here.

When the trio saw Wallander they approached him, the chief extending his hand. "Ah, Detective Wallander. I recognize you from the photo they sent over. I'm Chief Aaron Scmidt." He said in a voice that was broad and robust.

Kurt took the proffered hand and shook it, "How do you do. I was just getting some information from your officer here. I'm a bit surprised to see the pair of you in the station." He said turning his gaze toward the Bromstads. "Is everything alright?" he added.

"Yes, as well as things can be," replied Mr. Bromstad. Both his eyes and the eyes of his wife, however darted over to the chief who in turn looked at Wallander with a broad smile.

"They merely wished to see how the investigation was progressing. I assured them that we are doing everything humanly possible to solve this most terrible crime." The words had a genial air to them but they still sounded a bit forced to Kurt's ears and the detective had to resist the urge smirk at the chief's inflated assertion. If they were doing everything 'humanly' possible then Kurt wouldn't need to do everything himself as he was now forced to do. "I couldn't help but overhear that you are planning to search the Tourneau residence?"

The question brought Kurt out of his musings. "Yeah," he replied. "First I'm going to speak to another kid that we think might be involved."

"I apologize for not searching the house as you had asked. We are a bit of a small operation here." The chief said through a hearty chuckle. The too wide smile was still present on his face and it had Kurt wondering if this man had been spending just a little too much time around the politicians.

"It's fine," said Wallander, even though it was anything but. "Better if we check it out for ourselves anyway. Thanks for your help." _Or lack thereof it. _Wallander then headed to the door and made a swift exit. Something about that whole scenario felt far too awkward. In fact it made his skin crawl. Not much he could do about that now though.

When he reached the Sorn household he was in a bad mood. His last conversation left him with the distinct feeling that a new ulcer was beginning to form in his stomach. He flew past the ornate bronze gates and didn't even glance at the brightly colored rosebush adorning the lawn that stood out in deep contrast to the murky grey of the sky. He ignored the grand appearance of the stone covered walls and completely overlooked the, were those gargoyles on the corners of the lengthy balcony? After exiting his car, Kurt waited impatiently on the doorstep practically rocking back and forth on his heels in annoyance.

The woman who answered the door was short, about 5 feet or so, with dark brown hair that puffed up a little at the bottom. She wore a knee length, black dress overtop of which was a white apron. Kurt could only assume that this was the maid. "May I help you sir?" The pronunciation was clear but a slight accent tipped the end of her words.

"Uh, yes," he answered her. "My name is Kurt Wallander. I—"

"Ah yes, the detective," she cut in immediately. "The chief called the misses a short while ago."

"Did he now?" replied Kurt. That irritated him a little. He knew how small towns worked, they tend to keep close knit, but he wasn't too keen on having his suspects know he was coming. It gave them more time to coordinate stories.

The maid led them through a corridor into a pristine parlor room. Clearly the woman was good at her job. Everything was so clean it practically sparkled in the sunlight that showed through the large bay windows. It reminded the detective of one of those glass displays you would find in a museum or a jewelry store. One giant, stone covered glass display.

A middle aged woman with long, coifed blond hair walked slowly into the room, the heels of her wine-colored shoes clicking on the marble floor. "Good afternoon detective" she almost purred at Wallander, offering a graceful smile with the words. "I believe you have come to ask my family some questions."

"Erm, good afternoon." Kurt returned the greeting albeit clumsily. "I actually came to talk to your son for a bit."

Mrs. Sorn cocked her head to the side and allowed her smile to lengthen at the edges. Had he not been trained to notice all possible details Kurt might have missed the near imperceptible stiffness that pulled at her features. "Of course," she answered. "He's in the den. Follow me, please."

She led Kurt down a large white corridor accented with gold details. The walls were hung with elegant paintings, not so many that they were completely obscured by pictures but enough so that the wall looked full. It was clear each one had been strategically placed to create just the right effect.

The two continued to a large winding staircase that descended into the basement. When they reached the bottom Kurt had to glance back up the dizzying spiral to make sure that he was still in the same house. The immaculate white of the staircase clashed horribly with the dark chocolate brown walls he now saw. On one side of the room sat an indigo couch adorned with a crumpled up afghan strewn across the cushions. An obscenely large, silver flatscreen was attached to the opposite wall. The room wasn't overtly messy. Just a few things thrown here and there on the floor, but after seeing the rest of the house, the room looked like a garbage heap by comparison.

Over in the corner, a young man sat at a computer desk typing furiously. At first glance he reminded Kurt of Magnus (minus the goofy curls). He was a lean youth with blonde hair like his mother's. He swiveled his chair to face his two guests and then laid his hands down on his lap. "Hello detective," Jimmy said in utter politeness. He was attempting an even, amiable tone but there was a definite quiver in his voice that he couldn't seem to control. The kid was nervous.

"How do you do?" returned Kurt smiling in an attempt to keep the lad at ease. "I just need to ask a few routine questions, okay?"

Jimmy shifted in his seat. "Yeah, sure," he said.

"Alright, um, do you mind if I sit?" Kurt asked as he pointed to the couch. Jimmy shrugged his shoulders then nodded his head. Kurt eased himself down on the cushion, inwardly grimacing at the slight pop and kink of his hips and knees, and began his questions. "You knew Linda Bromstad, correct?

"Yes," stated the boy.

"Do you know anyone who might have had a reason to kill her? Had a grudge against her, perhaps."

There was a shake of a head followed by an "un un."

"Okay." This was getting him nowhere, slowly. Maybe a change of tactics. "Perhaps you could help us with something else. We're looking for someone you know; John Tourneau. Have you seen him lately?"

Jimmy's body tensed briefly and in that moment his eyes flicked quickly to the left, to where, Kurt just realized, Mrs. Sorn was still standing at the bottom of the stairs. "No, I, uh, haven't seen him." The boy stuttered out.

Well, that made things a little clearer. "Pardon me," Kurt said, shifting his head to face the lady of the house, "would you mind allowing us some privacy?" Though the words were kind enough the tone brooked no argument.

"Oh, of course," she giggled softly to herself and headed back up the stairs offering what appeared to be a reassuring smile to her son. A message passed between them, Kurt was sure of it but with the very little he had to go on he couldn't jump to any concrete conclusions about what that message was. It could have meant they knew something but giving the political life running through the whole of this town it could have just meant 'don't do something stupid that will attract publicity'.

Kurt waited until he could hear the obnoxious click of the woman's heels above them before turning back to Jimmy. The kid held himself tightly while his fingers twitched uncomfortably in his lap. His file said he was twenty-one but at the moment he looked to be about the age of a twelve year old who was still afraid of the dark. This boy didn't have the stomach to be a killer. He would have cracked long before this, Kurt was sure of it. That left him to wonder, though, just what was this kid so afraid of?

"It's just the pair of us, now Jimmy." Kurt said in the most comforting tone he could manage. "Whatever you say here, I will ensure to the best of my ability that your parents won't find out. Okay?"

"Okay," replied Jimmy tentatively but if he held himself any tighter he would have started to shake. The experienced detective in Kurt could tell that this would most likely prove useless but he had to ask anyway.

"We've come across some information that says Linda's death could have something to do with an incident that happened four years ago," he began. "An incident you were a part of." Recognition dawned in the boy's eyes. "Can you tell me anything about that?"

Jimmy averted his gaze as he spoke, "It was a stupid thing," he said. "It was really pathetic when I think about it."

"But you were sent away for it, to a correction facility, right? You and John." Kurt was pushing the boy, he could tell, but he needed something to go on.

"We stepped over the line," he admitted, "but it was stupid, like I said. Nothing worth…nothing worth killing Lin over." After that quiet statement the kid clammed up. Nothing more could be gotten from him. Sighing, Kurt stood and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. "I guess that'll be it," he said to which the boy only nodded.

After winding his way back up the stairs and bidding the illustrious Mrs. Sorn a good day, Kurt made his way back to his car slamming the door shut once he was inside. This day was beyond frustrating now. Not only was he dealing with an incompetent "police force", which he hesitated to even call it that, but he really felt like the entire town was hiding something. Of course, it just so happened to be the something he needed to break open the case. He was certain that without that something he didn't have any semblance of a lead. The day went to hell, plain and simple and it was only halfway through. Of course if that wasn't enough, Kurt's phone began to ring.

**Sorry this took so long guys but school is school. I do have the next chapter written I just have to type it up. I can promise you more action and for those of you who need thier fix, more Magnus.**

**Reviews are always welcome. I love them dearly.**


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt really did need to change his ringtone. He'd been told by more than one person how annoying it was and he had to admit that he agreed with them. But it always seemed so unimportant compared to everything else, so he just never got around to it. "Wallander," his voice cut into the receiver after he picked up the offending device.

"_Hey! What's with ditching me this morning?"_ came the impertinent sound of Magnus from the other end of the line.

"Ah, so sleeping beauty finally woke up," was Kurt's sardonic reply.

"_Oh ha ha, you're a riot. Seriously, we're supposed to work together. That ringin' a bell?"_

"Well, you just looked so comfy cuddled up in all those blankets, I didn't have the heart to wake you." Kurt used all of his strength not burst into a giant guffaw as Magnus groaned in response to the patronizing comment. The surly detective mentally chided himself for not having the forethought to take a picture. Anne-Brit would have thought Magnus was simply adorable. The kid's embarrassment would have been so sweet.

"_Alright fine,"_ Magnus conceded. _"So what have you been up to, then? Find anything new?"_

Turning his thought back to his incredibly unproductive morning, Kurt grimaced. "Annoyingly, no," he admitted. "This town is locked up tighter than bloody Alcatraz. I was going to head to that Tourneau place again. See what I can dig up."

"_Tourneau?"_ questioned Magnus. _"Weren't the local Leos supposed to handle that?"_

"Were. Didn't." replied Kurt.

"_Figures. Well there wasn't much else to find on him. His parents own the house which he sort of rents. His parents are in France or something like that. Still he's been living there for a few months so he could have left something behind."_

"Alright, I'll swing around and pick you up. Make sure you're ready or I'll leave without you." The statement was followed by a swift click as Kurt snapped his phone shut.

WWWWWWWWWWWW

When he reached the inn, Wallander was satisfied to see Magnus leaning up against a wall outside, clad in his habitual trench coat. The tall blond climbed into the passenger's seat and the pair sped away towards the cabin. By the time they pulled into its driveway, it was late in the afternoon and the sun was beginning to set. Gold-orange rays spread across the back of the cabin casting its front in dark intermittent shadows. This time both Kurt and Magnus entered the front of the house. It was unlikely that John had come back, but even if he had he'd still be unlikely to escape two alert detectives.

"So shall I take the bedroom, you can have the living room," suggested Magnus.

Kurt scoffed at the idea. "Oh no," was his retort, "I'm not letting you have another lie down while I do all the work." A grimace flitted across Magnus's face and Kurt realized the poor taste of his joke. He rolled his eyes and attempted a soft smile to which Magnus huffed and grinned back. It was a completely dysfunctional way to say that things were alright and all had been forgiven, but it worked so Kurt wasn't going to complain. In truth the living room was fairly large and the elder man had no desire to sort through that mess. Being senior detective did have its perks from time to time.

Of course the bedroom didn't really look much better. Clothes had been flung everywhere their owner having rifled through them before he left. There was even a dingy, grey shirt hanging from the ceiling fan. That was it though. Nothing but t-shirts and jeans. Some of the pants held loose change in their pockets but nothing of any real importance. There was something strange in the manic chaos of it all that bugged Kurt. It appeared as if John Tourneau hadn't been expecting them. Normally there wouldn't be anything odd about a killer haphazardly running from the cops but here, just like any other small town, news traveled fast. He and Magnus had already been there for about a day before bursting in on John. Tracy had known they were coming so why didn't John? The detective was just beginning to comb through both his idea and the torn apart dresser when a call came from down the hallway.

"Kurt," Magnus was saying. "Kurt!"

Kurt walked up to stand in the entryway joining the living room and the hall. "Alright, keep your trousers on. I'm here." He said.

Holding what appeared to be a crumpled postcard, Magnus approached his partner. "Take a look at this," he said.

No More Hiding.

You'll Be Next.

Casius

"So he wasn't really running from us." Kurt stated as he carefully perused the letter.

"I guess not," replied Magnus. "Who's Casius?"

Kurt stared at the man. He was about to make a snide comment on just how absurd it was to think he could possibly know the answer to that question when he saw his partner's large azure orbs grow wide. There was no time to think as Magnus hurled Kurt to the side and a sudden gunshot rang out from behind the pair. The bullet shrieked past them barely an inch from Kurt's head and shattered the glass of the window ahead of them. In that moment of panic they couldn't avoid the hard but unsteady cherry wood end table that was now in their path. Kurt's hip slammed viciously into its edge, which caused the whole thing to collapse sending the unlucky trio down to the floor in a heap. Kurt was aware enough, however, to see the black clad figure dart past them and into the kitchen.

"I'm fine." He insisted as he caught the worried glance of his junior investigator. "Go after him!" and like an obedient greyhound Magnus shot up and raced after the perp.

Kurt hated getting old. As a cadet, a fall like that would have only stunned him for a moment, but now his hip burned from the impact. Gingerly, he made his way to his feet testing the steadiness of his legs. A moment later he heard another gunshot followed by the sickening thud of flesh smacking tile. Faster than his hip should have allowed he hobbled to the kitchen and flung the swinging door open wide. What he saw froze every inch of him making it impossible to move any further.

The first thing to assault his gaze was the gun. Magnus's gun. Lying uselessly on the cold floor. A screen door smacked against its frame but Kurt hardly heard it. All of his attention was directed at the floor or now more specifically the somewhat familiar boots that were splayed upon it. His eyes slowly tracked along the length of those boots and caught sight of a dark, well-worn trench coat that Kurt was frighteningly accustomed to. Daring to follow past its fringe, Kurt stared at a pair of limp arms attached to which were pale, unmoving hands. Though there was nothing more that he didn't want to do right now, Kurt forced his eyes to continue. His throat seized and his legs grew weary as his eyes finally rested on the uncharacteristically still face of Magnus.

Bold red blood seeped down into the boy's bronze locks from a gash on his otherwise colorless forehead. The seasoned detective didn't want to think about what that might mean but knew he had to find out. Slowly he approached the normally vibrant computer tech and tentatively knelt by the man's side. With a shaking hand Kurt reached out to touch the wound but he almost jumped back as he felt something grip his arm. A hand had jutted out to grab hold of him. The startled man looked down and found himself in a staring match with a pair of cloudy and terrified blue eyes.

"Geez Magnus," Kurt hissed, abruptly releasing a breath he had known full well that he had been holding. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

The young man's reply came out in a set of quick, breathless gasps. "You!" he cried. "She could have killed me!"

That stopped Kurt for a moment. "She?" he asked.

Magnus let out a low grown and tenderly laid his head back down on the floor. "Yeah, the person I grappled with was definitely a woman." He said as he closed his eyes in an attempt to ward off the nausea climbing through his stomach. "She caught me from behind."

"I heard a gunshot."

"Yeah, that was me. I don't think she realized that the door was on the side of the house instead of the back. I was heading to the door when she jumped on my back, forcing the gun to go off."

"And that lovely gash you're now sporting?"

"Ah yes. She used my surprise to get the upper hand. She knocked my head against the countertop. What kind of 21 year old has solid stone countertops?"

"His parents own the place, remember."

Magnus opened his eyes solely to give Kurt a piercing glare. "I just got the seven bells knocked out of me. Do you honestly think I remember stupid little details like that right now?"

"Sorry," Kurt grinned undermining his apology. He then allowed a small, relieved sigh to exit his mouth. If the kid was still able to deal out snarky comments then he would be just fine, if not a little shook up. "Come on," he said. "Do you think you can stand up?"

"If I have to," Magnus moaned and then proceeded to push himself into a sitting position albeit with Kurt's hand placed firmly on his back to steady him. Once turned the right way up, however, the generally lanky man found himself curled over with his head between his knees. "Mmmnnnn… concussions suck," he mumbled.

Kurt just chuckled goodheartedly. "I imagine it would," he said giving his young charge a gentle pat on the back. They had to stay there for a several minutes until Magnus could once again lift his head. It seemed a bit awkward and Kurt imagined it felt more so to Magnus. Being a father Kurt felt compelled to comfort his injured partner but the only way he could think to do it was pat rough circles on the kids back.

Eventually they were able to make it to their feet and, after another quick bout of dizziness, made their way back to the car. They hooked arms around one another's shoulders and Kurt found it was just as much for his support as it was for Magnus's. His hip was still sore from the fall and now grew stiff as they walked, so much so that he had to start limping when they were about halfway down their path. Even Magnus's addled brain noticed it. "Are you alright?" he had asked at one point but the other man just shrugged it off, stating that it was nothing major.

By the time they reached the station the local doctor, Melvin as Kurt was informed, as well as the police chief and his two officers were anxiously waiting for their arrival. The first thing Kurt did was set Magnus up with the "good doctor" Melvin in a low lit corner of the room, far away from the noise that could be made by the others. That was on purpose. Afterwards he went to town, tearing the formidable mass of the chief into small bits that you'd be lucky to see through a microscope.

"This is supposed to be a respectable town," he was saying. He raged about everything from the ineptitude of the staff to the fact that he and Magnus weren't even supposed to be at that "stupid hell house". If Magnus was honest with himself he would have to admit that Kurt's voice was loud enough to add to the sharp intensity of his headache, but there was no way Magnus was going to stop it. He liked watching the man whose ability for sympathy reminded Magnus of a prickly cactus in a barren desert, stand up for him. He almost laughed aloud when the phone rang and one of the lower officers sprang at the chance to get out of Kurt's firing line.

"Of all the lazy, incompetent things!" shouted the red faced detective. "I hold your entire precinct responsible for this."

As the tirade continued Magnus took note of the officer by the phone. "Detective," called the officer in a cautious manner.

Kurt never heard him. "This should have been handled last night, fire or no!"

"Detective Wallander," the man tried again in vain.

"You had better track down both that woman and that Jonny kid or so help me,"

"Kurt!" the shout came from Magnus this time

"What?" growled the tyrant.

Magnus inclined his head towards the cadet who's face had gone as grey as ash.

"Detective Wallander , sir. There, there has been another murder." The man's words were shaky and he had to swallow a few times as his throat dried up. He may have been a police officer but this was clearly out of his realm of experience. The first murder had sparked his curiosity but the second… the second brought it out into reality.

"Who is it?" an impatient Kurt demanded when the man didn't continue.

"It's, um, it's Jimmy Sorn, sir."

Only one word passed through Kurt's head at that moment. _Damn._

**_So what did you guys think? Sorry for the long wait and can't promise it won't be any shorter for the next time around. We're past halfway through the semester now so I am super busy. Fear not I will finish this. _**

**_Thank you all for your reviews! I love them a lot! More are always welcome and strongly encouraged :) You Rock!_**


	8. Chapter 8

**I am so, so sorry for keeping all of you waiting. With school and then the holidays life got a little crazy. But after all that, here it is. Let me know what you think.**

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

Wallander found the scene before him repulsive. Jimmy, the boy who just hours earlier had possessed a reserved yet skittish energy, was now sprawled out on the floor devoid of any type of vitality. His eyes were open wide with terror, and his mouth hung slightly agape in a grotesque imitation of what was surly his last intake of breath that the shock of facing his murderer would no doubt have caused. Like Linda, John had been displayed on a tasteful area rug in the Sorn's living room; his hands tied and lying on his lap. The most disturbing part, though, were the splattered specks of red that stood out brightly on the once clean white walls. It looked like a strange piece of modern art, both captivating and abhorrent to Kurt's senses.

There was one striking difference between the two murders. Where Linda had been strangled John had been shot. Almost point blank, right where his heart was. Serial killers tended to stick to the same method, but it had already been made clear that this was a case of revenge. The note from the Tourneau house had made that pretty clear. The change in tactics merely reaffirmed the assumption, but still, why the change?

"The missis is ready for you now, sir," the call came from Brigham, the taller of Chief Schmidt's lackeys that Kurt was finally able to remember the name of.

Straightening up from the bent position he had been in to examine the body, Kurt made his way into the parlor room, skimming it with his eyes as he walked. Mrs. Sorn was sitting on a small settee next to which a hand crafted lamp was casting a pale light upon her face. Kurt had already been informed that her husband was away on business. Her back was straight, pulled taut, and her right arm was rigid against the armrest. Her left hand was positioned delicately on her lap.

"I know this is hard," Kurt began but was instantly cut off.

"Save your petty condolences!" the ferocity of the statement took Kurt by surprise. Gone was the seductive charm of the wealthy heiress Kurt had spoken to that afternoon. In her place was a bitter, angry woman imbued with rage. "It is supposed to be your job to catch this damned murderer. He is not supposed to be running free to commit other murders! Because of your incompetence my son is dead! I swear to you that you will be – "

"You swear?" Kurt sprang hastily to his feet. "Exactly what is it you swear? Do you swear to tell me what it is you and your son were hiding earlier?"

"That does not concern you!"

"Oh, oh it doesn't?" this was too much. "Because I think whatever it is you and this entire bloody town are all keeping secret is the very thing that is getting your children killed."

"You go too far!" she was on her feet now.

"And you haven't gone far enough!"

For a tense moment they glared at one another in what felt like a demented game of chicken. _This was insane. What secret could possibly hold any importance after her son was killed? _Then Kurt saw something in Mrs. Sorn's intense almond eyes that caused him to blink first. It was a protective look but it wasn't for herself, it was that of a mother protecting her child. The detective remembered it from his ex-wife Mona's gaze as she cradled their only daughter after the incident with the pills. He let out a sigh to clear his head and addressed the woman again in as gentle a tone as he could manage. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, just give something I can work with. Anything that could point me in the right direction, please."

She looked at him for some time, the silence becoming uncomfortable for the detective. "I can't help you," she finally said and then sat back down in her previous position, averting her gaze from Wallander. Kurt huffed and dropped his head down to his chest. Shaking his head he began to walk toward the door. He wasn't going to get what he wanted from her. There was no use pushing any harder. Then, "Detective." The call made Kurt turn halfway back to her expecting some sort of warning he didn't really care about hearing. "You had asked my son about John Tourneau. " Now she had his full attention. "He is in Karlstad."

WWWWWW

It was passed midnight when Kurt and Magnus were able to return to the hotel. The moment their heads hit their pillows they were both dead to the world, so it came as a rather sharp annoyance when a bird had begun chirping in their room. Or at least Kurt had thought it was a bird, and it took him a full minute after waking to realize that the odd sound emanating at steady intervals to his right was coming from his cell phone. He had never used the alarm function on his cell before and felt like a right idiot when Magnus had to show him how to work it. Now that it was going off he realized that it was possible to hate a sound more than his actual ringtone. After groping around blindly for the infernal device, he brought it about an inch from his face and blinked bleary eyes at the fluorescent numbers. 4:01 a.m. it read and Kurt growled.

Reluctantly he scrunched the blankets away from his body and rocked forward. A small hiss leaked from his lips at the discomfort of his still stiff hip, but it lasted a mere moment before he was able to propel himself off of the mattress. With lead feet he shuffled himself over to the second full sized bed and levied himself into the chair beside it, remembering to be wary of his hip this time.

"Hey," Kurt pushed at Magnus' shoulder eliciting a mumbled groan from him as he rolled his body away from Kurt.

"Come on, I don't feel like playing games," Kurt said, shoving the shoulder harder.

The blonde puff rolled back over to reveal a very aggravated face. "Aren't you the one who was pushing me to get sleep?" Magnus asked.

"Yeah but I'm not the one who got a concussion," was Kurt's reply.

Magnus huffed, "Fine ask your stupid questions then."

"Name?"

"Humpty Dumpty."

Kurt glared at his charge, "I told you I'm not in the mood."

"Huh, are you ever?" Magnus quipped then noticed that the glare only grew harsher. "Magnus Martinsson," he finally answered.

"What's the date?"

"Really? People actually care about that at," Magnus lifted his head to stare at the small alarm clock next to his bed, "Ugh, 4 o'clock in the morning?"

"Magnus!"

"Alright! September 22, 2011."

"And where are we?"

Magnus dropped his head back on the pillow answering with a definitive "Hell."

Kurt stared for a moment. "Alright I'll give you that one," he said.

"Great, will you let me go back to sleep now?" Magnus waited for an answer but when it didn't come he grew concerned. "Unless there was something else you needed," he pressed.

The senior detective waved off the concern. "It's nothing, I was just thinking," he replied.

"About the case? What?"

"It's just… the woman in the Tourneau house. Why didn't she kill you? I mean not that I'm saying she should have, I just,"

Magnus quickly cut in, "No, no, trust me, I thought the same thing. I was totally defenseless. She had a gun, why not take the shot?"

"Mmhm, and she probably had plenty of time to shoot us in the hallway as well," Kurt agreed.

They both sat in silence, Kurt with his hand rubbing at the scruff on his chin he hadn't been able to shave and Magnus propped up on his elbow, caught in private contemplation. It was Magnus who eventually spoke up. "So, if she wasn't trying to kill us then what, she was trying to scare us?"

Kurt nodded, "That sounds right. Everyone here is hiding something. It seems to be one big skeleton in the town's proverbial closet. Maybe she was trying to throw us off it."

"But I was assuming that we surprised her," said Magnus. "If she was there for us, how did she know we'd be there?"

"Now that's the question we need to answer," Kurt said but before he could think on it any further, his phone began to ring.

"Ugh!" cried Magnus as he folded the pillow over his head to drown out the noise. "That ringtone is worse than listening to a dying cat."

Kurt only grinned as he flipped open his phone. "Wallander," he chirped. It was the chief. "Yeah... got it… okay," Kurt said as he listened to the other end. "Right, we'll be there around eight then." Kurt shut his phone and turned back to his roommate. Turns out the police in Karlstad are much more efficient than the force they were currently working with. They found John Tourneau and were going to ship him out in a few hours. He wasn't going to arrive until sometime in the late morning or early afternoon, so there wasn't any point in them going in now. Kurt was going to tell his partner this but when he turned back he found him already asleep, the pillow the kid had pressed over his head had flopped back down in the now loosened grip.

Kurt smiled a soft genuine smile. They were detectives. The world around them could be an endless parade of nightmarish events and they had chosen it to be that way. Their current case was evidence enough of this. But sleep, whether full of strange images or dreamless, could bring them peace. So for now he would let Magnus have that peace and let the nightmares of the real world seem like the far off dreams Kurt sometimes wished they were. Well, for the next two hours at any rate.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everybody. Sorry for keeping you waiting. School keeps you busy like that. Anyway, I hope to be posting regularly now since I have more free time. Thank you all for sticking with me and for all of your wonderful reviews. You guys are awesome!**

**P.S. For those of you who have read my Avengers fic Panic, I am overwhelmed by your reviews and all of you who favorited the story. Thank you all so, so much.**

The parking lot of the little county station was full. Kurt couldn't imagine where all the people had come from to fill the vehicles. When he and Magnus entered the building, they found themselves crushed up against the walls by the myriad bodies milling about. It was as if the people were appearing out of the woodwork… like termites.

"What the hell is going on?" Magnus exclaimed. "Are they having a town yard sale or something?"

"Whatever it is, it's ridiculous," Kurt bit back. "Move about," he ordered. "See if you can find Schmidt." No sooner had he said that than the man in question emerged from his office. "Schmidt!" Kurt barked with all the vehemence the detective's own precinct knew him for.

Schmidt rolled his gaze toward Kurt with a withering look of impatience. "I believe that is Chief Schmidt, Detective," he said.

"Don't patronize me with courtesies," replied Kurt as he forcefully pushed his way through the throng. "What the hell is happening here!"

The chief moved toward Wallander, purposely stalling at each person that stood between them. It chafed at Kurt's very limited store of patience. "The parents of this town are concerned and rightly so," Schmidt said as the two men finally met. "The youth of our town are being attacked and these good people are worried for their children."

It sickened Kurt to hear the eel-like slickness of the words "good people." More and more Schmidt reminded him of a greasy politician using every move to get more votes. Did he even care about those kids? "This place is a mad house," Kurt stated. "We can't bring Tourneau here. It'll be a veritable lynching."

"That's already been taken care of. I've sent an officer over to his home and when he arrives we'll take Tourneau there." Schmidt explained.

"Fine, where are we on that Casius name we gave you?"

"We haven't been able to look into that yet."

"Okay," Kurt drawled, "how about the woman that attacked us?"

"Look around, you can see we've been very busy here – "

Kurt threw his hands in the air and releasing a dissatisfied huff he turned his back on Schmidt leaving the chief to shake his head at the outburst. The detective scanned the cramped station for his partner, finding Magnus crushed in a corner. He was sitting Indian-style on the floor with his ever present laptop situated on his knees. "I thought computers were a no-no for people with concussions," Kurt said as he approached the young man.

Magnus lifted his head giving a high raise of his eyebrow at the use of the phrase 'no-no'. "It takes my mind off the headache this stupid crowd is giving me," he replied as he lowered his gaze back to his screen.

"And replacing it with one from your computer. Brilliant," was Kurt's retort. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Mapping out our suspects. I would have done it last night but, well…" Magnus ended the sentence with a shrug.

The mangle of panic-obsessed parents hadn't thinned out any, Kurt noticed as he surveyed the station for a free desk or chairs. He felt silly crouching in a corner. It didn't matter though, as everyone's attention was somewhere in the direction of the genial chief. "Well, what have you got then?" He said, resigning himself to the cramps his muscles were sure to endure from the uncomfortable position he forced himself into.

"Alright, look here." Magnus pointed at the screen where a simple idea chart was displayed. "So I have 'murderer' in the center box connected to which are Linda and now Jimmy." Kurt's eyes followed the two lines extending from the center box. "Connected to Linda are her parents who are obviously hiding something. Same thing with Jimmy," Magnus continued. "Now connected to both Jimmy and Linda is John Tourneau because of something that happened four years ago. As far as we know though, he was miles away when Jimmy was killed."

Kurt scrunched up his face in annoyed confusion. "So where are you going with this?" he asked.

"Well both families of our victims are linked with the political world where PR is everything so obviously having psycho kids would be a problem. But is it enough to kill over?" Magnus eyed Kurt with a questioning glance showing his clear disbelief in such a concept.

"So we can't rule out the parents." It was a firm statement. Kurt wasn't nearly naïve enough to believe that killing one's own child over something as silly as public appearance was out the realm of possibilities.

Magnus replied with a diffident "No".

"And we still don't know what connects the kids."

"No," Magnus repeated with a small shake of his head.

"Right, so…this helps us how?"

"Well it organizes our suspect list."

Kurt growled and hung his head. "Magnus, I am this close to giving you another concussion," he railed. "Focus on finding answers, not making pretty pictures on your computer!"

Magnus scowled at Kurt. "Now wait just a minute! If you take a second to look, you'll see that it helps us with our other little problem."

"Oh, and what is that?"

"Now who's being dense?" Kurt once again had to resist the urge to smack his concussed partner on the back of the head. He was, however, curious as to what the hell the boy was talking about. "We don't know who attacked us, remember," Magnus chided. "We know it's a woman and assuming there are no other parties at play we are left with three choices; Mrs. Bromstad, Mrs. Sorn, and also Linda's friend Tracy. Though why she would come after us, I haven't got a clue." Magnus paused as they both mulled it over in their own minds. "The thing I don't get is how any of them found out that we would be there."

He was right, damn-it. It didn't make any sense. Kurt watched as Magnus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose presumably trying to stave off a headache. For some reason, this made the senior detective burn with anger. He gazed out at the idlers in the room in an attempt to hide his frustration. Suddenly his eyes locked on the over-animated head of Chief Schmidt. "I have an idea," he muttered in a low, vicious growl. He moved quickly to his feet, ignoring the pull in his hip.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Magnus called after Kurt's retreating back.

The bristling man plowed through the crowd, pushing people aside like a wrecking ball through a brick wall. "I'm going to finally get some bloody answers!" he screamed and then barreled out the door.

**I know, I'm evil for leaving you hanging. **

**Don't worry, I know where this is going . Reviews are always welcome and appreciated**


	10. Chapter 10

"Where is she?" Kurt demanded

"I beg your pardon," replied Ronald Bomstad.

Kurt pushed through the door of the Tramwire guest house, making a bee line for the parlor room. Not finding what he was searching for, he barreled down the hallway like a bull after a red cape. The detective turned wildly, looking from room to room. "I'm tired of playing these stupid games!'' he called back to the flabbergasted Mr. Bromstad. "Where is your wife!"

"Now hold on for one minute," Mr. Bromstad protested, clearly affronted by the abrupt visit. "You can't just – "

Kurt turned on him with eyes of venom. "Just what!" he barked. "Figure out the truth? Actually get some answers? Then maybe I could actually figure out who killed your daughter! Or would you like to stand in my way a little longer?"`

"Detective," the calm call echoed gently down the hall. Mrs. Bromstad stood in the foyer. Her elegant purple gown swayed slightly as she carefully made her way toward the two gentlemen. "Please have a seat," she said, gesturing toward a sofa in the living room to the left of Kurt. "I will tell you what you wish to know."

"Darling we – " Mr. Bromstad began but his wife was quick to halt his words with a placating hand.

"It's alright dear. Detective Wallander is right. There are things he needs to know." She had a somber voice; low and resigned. Her eyes particularly were saddened with grief, but all of this did little to calm Kurt's ire. This needed to end and it needed to end now.

Perching on the edge of a loveseat, Kurt glared at the woman sitting on the couch across from him. "What are you hiding, Mrs. Bromstad?" Kurt bluntly inquired.

This rubbed Mr. Bromstad the wrong way. "Now see here! Have some courtesy, detective."

Kurt was indignant. "Courtesy!" he scoffed. "The little stunt your wife pulled could have killed my partner, so you'll forgive me if I'm not feeling very courteous right now." Margret lowered her head into her hands but taking in the shocked silence emanating from Mr. Bromstad Kurt continued. "Oh so you didn't know that your wife fired a gun at two officers last night. Or that she knocked my partner's head against a concrete slab and was only lucky there wasn't any serious damage done."

"You have no proof of that!" cried Mr. Bromstad.

"Oh no!" was Kurt's sardonic reply. "She was the only woman within ear shot when I told Schmidt where I was going." Kurt grew angry at the memory and there was an edge to his words that bordered on rage.

"I just wanted to protect my daughter," Margret sobbed into her quaking hands.

"It's far too late for that!" roared Kurt as he launched to his feet, finally giving in to the overwhelming urge to shout. "You can't protect her anymore!" Margret's breath hitched as her head jerked out of her hands. Her eyes grew large with sudden realization.

"Get out!" cried Mr. Bromstad. He too was now on his feet. "Out!"

"No," Margret insisted, reaching desperately for her husband's sleeve in an attempt to pull him back toward the couch. "No," she repeated. "He's right. We can't protect her anymore."

The admission was submissive, meek. At this Kurt sobered. He understood. Truly he did. All a parent ever wants is to protect their child and it's devastating the day you realize you can't. But there were other things at stake, other lives. They had no time to be delicate. "Please," he all but begged. "You must tell me what happened four years ago."

"It was stupid," she said. "Foolish teens being foolish teens."

"But they took it too far." Kurt prompted. "Someone paid for it?"

Margret nodded. "John, Jimmy, and Linda all went into town. There were a few others but they've all moved away now. There was also another boy a grade younger than they were."

"Casius," inserted Kurt.

"Yes. How did you know that?" Margret asked.

"It's not important," replied the detective. "What happened to Casius?"

Margret sighed and let her gaze slip to the floor. "Casius was shy. The boys thought they'd play a trick on him. You know how young boys are. They blindfolded him and tied a rope around his wrists. They told him it was an initiation. That they would lead him around and he would have to trust them." She stopped and rested her chin on her hand, letting her nails lie gently on her lower lip. Almost as though she were going to bite them.

"What happened then?" asked the detective, his voice breaking Margret of her reverie.

"They tied him to the truck," she gasped out, her voice quivering slightly. "They were only going to make him run after it for a few seconds, but they got carried away. Another car came, driving toward them. They swerved but Casius couldn't."

"He was hit and killed," Kurt surmised.

"Yes," Margret breathed. "Linda was so upset. She hadn't even agreed with it in the first place." At this point she was near sobbing. "And poor Tracy, she must have been so devastated."

Kurt started a moment, confused by the comment. "Tracy? Was she there as well?" The report hadn't said that, not that they actually had access to the whole thing. She could be another target and they wouldn't have had a clue until she showed up sprawled on her own carpet, dead. Margret shook her head though.

"No, no," she said. "Casius was Tracy's brother."

"What! Her brother?"

"Yes. That's how her and Linda became such close friends. Linda was so eager to make amends."

Kurt lurched to his feet, and quickly began punching the buttons on his phone. How could they have missed this? "Magnus," he barked when the younger detective answered at his end. "Have Schmidt send someone to pick up Tracy Malon."

"_What?"_ replied Magnus. _"Why?"_

Kurt growled in obvious frustration. "Casius was the name of her brother. She could be our killer."

"No!" Mrs. Bromstad cried behind Wallander. "It couldn't be."

"Why now?" added Mr. Bromstad.

Kurt pointedly ignored them as he issued the orders into the phone. "Did you get that?" he demanded after the silence from Magnus drew on a moment too long.

"_Kurt, she was here,"_ came his mortified response.

"What!" the exclamation was becoming a staple in Kurt's vocabulary.

"_She was here. She left a few minutes ago. Just after…"_

"Magnus?"

"_After Schmidt told me Tourneau had arrived."_

Oh hell.

**I can't say it enough – Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed my story. You are all awesome. I think the next chapter is going to be the last. Let me know what you think.**


	11. Chapter 11

How many? How many could have been saved? If only the parents had taken their heads out of their butts every once in a while, hadn't cared so much about their precious reputations. Then maybe their children could have been spared. Maybe Jimmy and Linda wouldn't have died. And maybe they wouldn't have been 'foolish' as Mrs. Bromstad so crudely put it, and a young boy just trying to be accepted wouldn't have had to die. Then maybe_, just maybe_, Kurt thought, he wouldn't be staring down a desperate Tracy Malon determinedly pointing a gun at a cowering John Tourneau, poised to take the shot that would end both their lives.

By the time Kurt had reached the cabin, Tracy was already inside. Whether she climbed in a window or came in the side door, hell she could've walked in the front door for as observant as these officers seemed to be. The officer that had been assigned to Tourneau had his own gun leveled at Tracy, so Kurt had yet to draw his. He didn't want to kill the girl. He didn't want anyone else to die.

"You know now, don't you," Tracy announced when she registered Kurt's presence.

"About your brother," Kurt replied. "That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting everything out in the open. That's why you laid them out on the carpets. So they could be seen."

"They covered it up!" she screamed. "Swept it under the rug like Casius was dirt. All so their precious little killers wouldn't tarnish their good name!" Her arm began to shake with tension of her grip on the gun.

Kurt's hands had crept up into a universal non-threatening gesture. "They can't do that now," he said. "Not this time. We'll tell them. We'll tell everyone. No one else has to die." His eyes flicked to the kneeling form of Tourneau who was trembling so violently that the floorboards creaked with the vibration. He prayed to God that he wasn't lying to the girl, but he knew the bureaucratic system well enough. Justice rarely played a part.

"They even gave us money!" she continued as though she hadn't heard Kurt's plea. "We didn't want to take it. It was disgusting!" she spat, her teeth gritted with every word. "But mum was sick. We had to take the money."

Damn. So this wasn't just about getting it out in the open. If it was Tracy really could stop here. Kurt would know, the Ystad police would know, she'd have already done what she needed. But without doubt, Kurt thought, Tracy had to watch her mother deteriorate in both body and soul as the grief of losing a child took its toll. He knew that the moment Tracy decided to pull that trigger there was nothing he could say to make up for her pain, nothing he could do to stop her.

Out of the corner of his eye Kurt suddenly caught movement and risked the briefest of glances to the kitchen door. Magnus was there, peering out through the slats, but Tracy hadn't seen him as her back was flush with the door. The kid was reliable, Kurt had to give him that. They'd have one shot at this and he just hoped Magnus was on the same page.

"Your mother wouldn't have wanted this," Kurt said quickly. "She wouldn't want more to die."

Tracy's head pivoted toward Kurt like the snap of a whip. Her eyes pierced his with barely contained rage. "It doesn't matter what she wants! She didn't want to get sick! She didn't want her son dead! She doesn't want to die! But they've all happened or will happen very soon. So it never really mattered, what we wanted." The hopelessness of her last words was breathtakingly sad as her eyes cascaded to the ground. It tore at Kurt's very soul to see it; but it was the exact reaction he needed.

The kitchen door flew open and slammed into Tracy's back as Magnus hefted his entire body into it. A wild shot rang out as they both hurtled to the floor. John Tourneau had curled up into a fetal position with his arms wrapped firmly around his head, but he hadn't been hit. The shot went high and wide, completely avoiding him and settling in the wood of the wall behind him. The gun also flew out of Tracy's hand when she impacted with the floor. Kurt grabbed hold of her, keeping her pinned as the officer who had his gun on her now had his cuffs out and was latching them to her wrists. The moment that was done, Kurt left her to the man and instead turned his attention toward Magnus. The younger agent had pulled himself upright into a seated position, but his eyes were steadily fixed on the floorboards as he attempted to take in slow, deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" asked Kurt as he kneeled in front of his partner.

Magnus began to nod then thought better of it. "Yeah," he replied. "I just got a bit dizzy. I'm fine now." Kurt smiled in relief and gently patted Magnus' head. It was his version of saying 'a job well done'. He then held his hand out to grip Magnus' and lumbered to his feet pulling the other detective with him. The pair looked on as the officer led Tracy down the hall. She screamed and pulled at the man saying that it wasn't fair, that they had killed her brother, that they had destroyed her mother. Kurt found that he couldn't disagree, but what was worse was that he didn't know whether to be saddened that these things had happened, or comforted that she hadn't done them without reason.

"Hey Magnus," he said, not taking his eyes off of Tracy.

"Yeah," Magnus replied, his gaze too remaining fixed.

"When we get back to Ystad…"

"Yeah?"

"Go see your mum."

"Yeah."

"Looks like your case made the front page," declared Anne-Brit as she plopped a newspaper down on Kurt's desk. It had been four days since they had returned From Varmland. At Kurt's suggestion, Magnus had taken the following three days off. Today he was back and though still looking a bit strained, he appeared far more rested than he did during the case. Now he sat at a corner desk peering curiously at Kurt as the senior detective read the article.

"Well, I suppose Tracy got what she wanted," Kurt said. "The truth is out for everyone to see."

Anne shook her head. "It's a sad business that," she said. "She really committed those murders just to have her brother's story told?"

Kurt sighed and swung his arm over his head to rub at the back of his neck. "She felt like there was no other way. Even Chief Schmidt was in on the cover up. She had nowhere else to turn."

Ann nodded. "Still, it's nice up in the country. Did you boys get in any male bonding time?" she asked with a teasing smile.

The twin glares she received were comedic. "No!" the pair stated in unison and proceeded to turn their heads away; Kurt returning to the papers on his desk and Magnus staring intently at his computer screen. She didn't miss, however, the fond smiles that quirked up on both of their lips. She let out an exasperated sigh. "Men," she declared and with that, walked out of the room.

End

**Oh my gosh! I finished it. Thank you all so much for sticking with me through the long haul. You all have been so wonderful.**

**P.S. Reviews are still welcome and greatly desired. I want to know what you guys think about the story as a whole. Thanks!**


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